


Alone With the World

by Goldflame



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Multi, Zombie Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-11
Updated: 2014-12-17
Packaged: 2018-01-04 07:33:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1078274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Goldflame/pseuds/Goldflame
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zombie!AU An unexpected zombie attack separates Armin from the only people among the living that he can trust, and he must struggle against the obvious physical and haunting mental challenges in order to survive. But as he fights for his life, he is caught up in something bigger than he ever could have imagined possible.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Seperation

“We live as we dream--alone....”  
― Joseph Conrad, Heart of Darkness

  
Armin had once been a playful boy who loved to learn and read and explore. He had dreams like every other boy, to be an astronaut or a firefighter, or a pirate. His laughter was vivid. His eyes were clear and bright. He did not worry about things to come nor things that passed. His had the life of an average seven year old.

  
Armin had once been a bookish pre-teen who had a passion for the adventures recorded in books. He wanted most to be able to visit the places he read about, to escape the bulling that followed him in school. He only had two friends his whole middle school career, and he was sure they resented him for always holding them back. He could still laugh, and his eyes had a glint that only hinted at his immense intelligence. He was an above-average eleven year old who couldn't recognize his own talents.

  
Armin had once been a traumatized and afraid teen, who found the dead around every corner. He was only plagued by nightmares of torn flesh and dull eyes. Everything before this was pointless. He no longer worried about bullies because they were dead, or they had become the undead. He no longer worried about his two friends because it took the Apocalypse to realize being helpful didn't just mean being physically strong. He found no point to laughing, and his eyes became dark. He was one of the few to survive, a fifteen year old who has seen humans rip each other apart with their bare hands.

  
As a young adult, he has found what is now life's normal way of running it's course. He has become use to the danger and the gore that one encounters on a daily basis. He is no longer the naive child of seven, nor the weak kid of elven, nor the traumatized boy of fifteen. Yet he is all of these, as no one can ignore who they are even if they can add to who they are becoming.

  
oooo  
(Age Nineteen, Somewhere in Northern America)

  
Armin cautiously poked at the wound on his head. He was currently washing himself in a small river, trying to get the blood out of his hair. He had been tackled to the ground by a particularly fast zombie, and although he hadn’t been seriously injured, he had scraped his forehead pretty badly. Armin was rudely reminded how much head wounds bled even if they weren’t deep. His hair hung in his eyes, loose and dripping water. He really needed a haircut.

  
He dipped down again, and made sure to scrub his body once again in the slow-moving river. He didn’t get to bathe much anymore, so he knew to be extremely thorough while he had the chance. Surviving the Apocalypse made staying squeaky clean a lot lower on everyone’s list of priorities.

  
Deciding he removed as much dirt and sweat from his body as he could for the moment, Armin began to pull on his clothes. His poor shirt had holes along the collar and near his left side- from wear and rips caused by jagged zombie nails. His jeans had holes at the knees and were fraying badly. His boots were worn, but well built, with thick soles and sturdy leather- he only wished he could find some socks. Blisters were horrible things.

  
He sighed and started wandering back to where Eren and Mikasa made camp as he tied his longer strands of hair back with a short string. Suddenly he heard a strangled yelp and loud clattering. Eren! Armin knew immediately. Without needing to consider the danger he was leaping over fallen trees and dodging branches as he sprinted for his friend. If zombies had suck up on Eren… He pushed his negative thoughts away, he just needed to focus on making it to his best friend as quickly as he could.  
“Eren!” Armin shouted as he broke into the small clearing, holding the knife he kept in his belt loop at the ready. Mikasa was standing over Eren already, scowling in such a way that Armin knew nothing serious had happened.

  
“You are a complete idiot.” She was in the middle of chiding.

  
Armin took a moment to really take in the situation: Eren sitting on the ground by the fire, pot flung haphazardly away, Eren covered in hot soup. Armin had to agree, Eren was a complete idiot.

  
“Jeeze, I thought you were getting killed, not spilling our dinner on yourself.” Armin said, still hyped up from adrenalin.

  
“I said I’m sorry.” Eren snapped back, “It was an accident.”

  
Armin was glad it was only that. He had no one except his two friends. He was positive the only reason he had survived so long was because they were great fighters and were able to look after him. Armin wasn’t really a fighter, and that was one of the biggest disadvantages one could have nowadays. He liked to think he had gotten over his inferiority issues, but he wasn’t going to lie to himself.

  
“Anyways, we should pack up soon and head out.” Armin offered. He knew it was best to always be on the move, not letting the zombies track you down.

  
“Yeah, okay. This forest gives me the creeps anyways.” Eren agreed.

  
Soon enough, the trio had gathered their meager possessions and started east. Armin carried the two-person tent, everyone’s bed rolls, and his knife. Eren carried things like food, his large switchblade, bottles of water, and the one cooking pot the group possessed. Mikasa just carried her long sword. The loads may seem unfair, but Armin knew this distribution was the best chance for them surviving. Mikasa, the best fighter, needed her hands free incase they were suddenly attacked. Eren had the most physical strength so he was able to carry the heaviest load the longest, and Armin just tried to keep up with the two of them.

  
“What safetown should we stop by?” Eren asked as he stomped around on the soft ground.

  
“Trost is closest.” Mikasa mentioned, but Armin immediately shook his head.

  
“They aren’t receptive of outsiders there. I don’t think they’d take kindly to anyone, even Informants, from entering their closed-off community.” Armin said, “It would be better if we headed to-“

  
Armin found himself sprawled on the forest floor, kicking up damp leaves, fighting against hands clamping down on his throat. Faintly he heard the curses of his friends, but he was too focused on the rotting stench and gnashing teeth inches away from his neck to pay much attention of anything else.

  
A zombie? Where had it come from? How had they not noticed it sneaking up on them? Armin struggled to keep teeth from his throat. Suddenly the weight was lifted off his body as Eren tumbled over them while trying to doge the lunge of a different zombie. This gave Armin enough time to roll away and rise to a crouch.

  
He took in the situation. Mikasa was furiously slicing through bodies, struggling to hold off the growing numbers. Eren was wrestling with a female zombie, trying to get a hold of her head in order to break her neck. How had this many zombies managed to sneak up on them? The trio was cautious, they were aware. This should have never happened, so why…?

  
Armin was snapped out of his thoughts when he saw a zombie launch itself at his waist, trying to knock him off balance. He managed to retain his footing but the zombie was still hanging onto him. Swiftly Armin pulled his fist back and drove it forward, straight into the rotting face. He felt the zombie’s nose give way into it’s skull, causing it to slacken it’s grip just enough for Armin to wiggle free.

  
He ended up backing straight up into another zombie. It’s arms bear hugged around his chest, pinning his arms to his body. “Armin!” Mikasa screamed as she watched in horror as the zombie opened its mouth to bite Armin. She lunged towards her friend, but she was too far to make in time, too far to help.

  
Armin jerked wildly, but he knew he couldn’t break free in this position. Just when he felt the gooey warmness emanating from the zombie’s mouth around his bare neck another body shoved him around. Suddenly Eren was there, wrestling the zombie’s mouth open with his hands, putting himself in danger for Armin’s sake.

  
Armin fell to the ground with a thud, but he didn’t feel it. All he noticed was the way the zombie’s teeth broke his friend’s flesh as Eren fought back with all his might. Eren managed to rip the zombie’s jaw from its skull and twist its neck, but the damage was already done.

  
Mikasa cut down the final two zombies and the air settled. Eren had been bitten. It was undeniable. “Eren-“ Armin started, but before he could say anything Eren was sprinting away with no intention of stopping.

  
Armin knew why. Eren knew neither Armin or Mikasa would be able to kill him, so he was getting as far away as possible so when he turned he wouldn’t come after them. It was a smart move, he had to admit. Armin leaned forward and pressed his forehead into the ground.

  
“Eren Jeager!” Mikasa screamed hysterically. And before Armin could stop her, Mikasa was sprinting off after him.

  
“Mikasa!” Armin called after her, “Don’t!” By the time he was standing, Mikasa had disappeared into to woods. He cursed, couldn’t she wait two seconds for him? He started out into the forest, calling out gently to her, not wanting to attract zombies again.

  
To his horror hours went by and he found nothing. No signs from either of his friends. The sun was only peeking over the horizon now, and Armin was extremely exposed with the coming night. Where had Mikasa ran to? She could be miles and miles from here by now. She could be dead. Bandits could’ve found her, a lone girl wandering around near dusk-

  
All of the worst situations swirled through Armin’s head. He tried to think logically, he was a survivor. First, he needed to find a shelter of some sort so he could get out of the weather and away from perpetually wandering zombies.

  
By the time the moon was bright Armin found an abandoned three-story building. He climbed to the roof and mechanically unrolled his bedroll and lay down, staring at the stars.

  
He had been separated. He might as well be dead. Single travelers never survived. Even three people had been a small group to brave the wild, but they had thought they could do it. Armin was sure they were invincible, but look what happened in a few short moments. His friends had gone, and he couldn’t expect to see them alive ever again, if at all.

  
He listened to the soft wind, the chirping crickets. A small cloud rolled away, and the stars shined down on him more urgently. A zombie moaned lazily in the distance, and a dog barked back sharply. He felt utterly alone amongst all these things, the world going about its business like nothing had even happened. He was a part of this disconnected world, he was separate from the whole.  
He was alone with the world.


	2. The Find and the Found

Truly we have found my darkest days  
and we are forced to live with my mistakes  
but with every passing moment this darkness is overtaking me  
With empty hands I'm reaching out- is there any hope left for me?  
Heavy Hearts by Close Your Eyes  
Armin’s eyes slid open, quickly taking in his surroundings. He mentally shook off his fatigue and listened closely, searching for sounds of zombies. Something had woken him up, and he had learned by now to trust his instincts.

Carefully Armin rolled onto his feet and silently pulled out his knife. His head swiveled, but he didn’t find anything out of place on the roof he had taken refuge on for the night. A barking laugh suddenly cut through the silence, making Armin flinch.

Voices were now floating up to Armin from the street. To him, it sounded like a fairly large group- ten to fifteen people. He snuck to the edge of the roof and peered down, making sure to stay out of sight.

Bandits. Armin could tell immediately by their gaudy appearances. Jewelry and all sorts of coins adorned their bodies. The bandits’ skin seemed to glint with all the metal they were decorated with. Bracelets, necklaces, earrings- of course the jewels were worth nothing now, but the vanity of humans remained.

Armin took a headcount, eleven bandits total. Eight males, three females, one shotgun, one handgun, four knives, and various blunt objects. Careless- they were boldly and loudly tramping down the cracked street, not worried about stumbling across danger. That meant they were either extremely stupid, or extremely cocky and skilled.

Armin assumed the leader of the bandits must be the redhead woman with the shotgun and metal bat. She had the most diamonds on her fingers and ears, and even had a homemade tiara of sorts on her head.

The voices started to become clearer, and Armin could start to make out conversation.

“Could you believe that caravan? They only had a single lookout.”

“Idiots. Askin’ for a massacre.”

“Well, they got it.” Confident laughter came from the group.

“Let’s stop here and take inventory.” The leader said over her companions. “What’s the haul today?”

Armin watched closely as the bandits sorted out the stolen goods. He wasn’t going anywhere with them resting right under him, so he deiced to get as much information on them as he could. He was an informant, after all. He acted like a mail runner from safetown to safetown and would trade his knowledge of the outside world to the ‘quarantined’ areas. At least that’s what he was doing when Eren and Mikasa were with him.

Ignoring the empty pang in his chest at the thought of his friends, Armin focused back on the bandits as he swiped at his damp face. The bandits were lining up weapons and cans of food. One of them even had a yellow pad of paper and was keeping a tally. Armin had to admit, they knew what they were doing.

“I hear that Gordan’s gang ain’t havin as easy as us.”

“Who, that bald prick from the south?”

“That’s the one. They got some sort of army down there.”

“Army of Townies? Please, those spineless babies can’t hold a knife.”

“It’s different from the damn Royal Guard posers who ‘protect’ cities. These guys are a huge caravan.”

“Come on, we just took out a caravan of twenty-seven people no sweat.”

“I hear they got a hundred, all of ‘em fighters.”

“Bullshit! That’s impossible. That’s too many people to feed.”

“I swear, I heard from Gordan’s men-“

“What’s that?” The bandit leader cut in, “You friendly with Gordan’s men?”

“N-not particularly, mam.”

“I hope not. We’re the ones who are keeping you alive, right? You don’t need to speak with them unless I tell you to, understood?”

After that all the bandits seemed to loose interest in speaking. Armin didn’t blame them- he had seen bandit leaders killing off their own men without batting an eye. They had given Armin enough to mull over anyway. It seemed like the bandits had just finished a raid on a caravan containing twenty-seven people, and swiped a lot of quality loot. Twenty-seven was a large caravan, but it sounded as if they weren’t very smart about their traveling.

Armin had heard of the so-called ‘Royal Guard’- the army of townies they had mentioned. As Armin understood it, they were a group that protected the governing system in a few cities. The whole project sounded nice in theory, trying to restore something resembling a functioning government system, but in truth they were just using the powerlessness of the civilians to keep themselves safe. 

As for whatever this larger army of a caravan was, it certainly sounded unique. Armin was positive the numbers were exaggerated, but to even collect a large group of able-bodied fighters would be a rare phenomenon. Most groups capped at twenty people, unless an extremely stupid group got together, like the twenty-seven the bandits had apparently easily taken out. It was just so hard to keep track of that many people, and to even think of feeding them- it was more risk than most people were willing to deal with. It was difficult enough to protect the hundreds in barricaded cities.

Armin rubbed at his temples, feeling a headache coming on. The gash he had on his face must have hurt him more than he originally thought. It felt like a lifetime ago, but only yesterday he had been washing himself in a stream, friends only a minute away. Only five years ago he had been sleeping in his bed, worrying about grades. He should be in college right now, his whole future laid out for him. Yet here his was, struggling for every day, and he didn’t even have Eren and Mikasa to struggle beside him anymore.

He pushed away his dark thoughts once again and tried to get comfortable while sitting on the edge of the roof. He wouldn’t be able to leave until the bandits left, so why not make the most of it?

OOOO

Armin jerked awake, breath heavy and heart pounding. His memory was spotty, but he knew with a certainty that he had just escaped a nightmare. He took a few shuddering breaths to calm himself down and leaned over the side of the roof to make sure the bandits hadn’t been alerted to his presence. Luckily they seemed to have left some time ago, but still Armin felt like smacking himself. How could he fall asleep like that? The bandits could have found him and slit his throat without a sweat. Stupid. He was stupid.

He continued lecturing himself as he swiftly packed his few meager possessions and jogged down the stairs and out of the building. He just wanted to move. He wanted to get away. From what, he didn’t know, he just needed to keep moving.

He figured he would try to find the remains of the caravan the bandits had raided, to see if they missed any supplies. Soon enough Armin came across the first body. Finding dead bodies wasn’t something unusual, not anymore. He barely even blinked. Armin took out his hankercheif and tied it around his nose and mouth, trying to block some of the smell. After saying a quick apology Armin started going through the bodies’ pockets and savaging for new clothing.

Twenty-seven bodies later Armin managed to pick up another long knife, a can of tuna, a worn canvas jacket and a pair of nice thick socks. The bandits had been too through for him to find much of anything else, but he was thankful for what they did manage to forget.

Not wasting time around the pile of dead, Armin took off into the forest again, wanting to put distance between himself and the massacred. He didn’t really have a destination in mind, but as he walked he decided that he couldn’t give up, Mikasa had to be alive somewhere. Even if Eren had been bitten, she wouldn’t die so easily. He had to search for her, as long as it took. He’d find her, he swore it.

Just as he resolved to head to the nearest city he could find, a voice cut through the silence, “Stop where you are!”

 

Next Chapter: The Hunter


	3. The Hunter

“There is not always a good guy. Nor is there always a bad one. Most people are somewhere in between.”  
Patrick Ness, A Monster Calls  
He didn’t really have a destination in mind, but as he walked through the lush forest he decided that he couldn’t give up, Mikasa had to be alive somewhere. Even if Eren had been bitten, she wouldn’t, couldn’t, die so easily. He had to search for her, as long as it took. He’d find her, he swore it.

Just as he resolved to head to the nearest city he could find, a voice cut through the silence, “Stop where you are!”

Armin froze. Slowly, ever so slowly, he turned his body towards the voice, raising his hands in a nonthreatening gesture. His eyes found a drawn bow aimed straight for his face, ten feet away, well within a range he was sure no one would miss. 

“Stay still!” The voice commanded shakily. It was a dirty-encrusted girl with brown hair, and despite her shaky voice Armin could see her resolve in her eyes. She was hardened, just like all who were living in the world today. He didn’t recognize her from the group of bandits earlier, and she didn’t look like a bandit. She was wearing an average t-shirt and shorts that exposed a dangerous amount of skin, no protection from zombie bites.

“Hold on,” Armin tried to relax her, “I’m just-“

“Be quiet!” She snapped. She was jumpy, and Armin was afraid if he made one wrong move he’d get an arrow through the face. He stood silently, and slowly lowered his hands. Her eyes followed his every movement closely

“What do you want?” He asked gently.

“Give me your pack.” She demanded, adjusting her grip on the bow.

So she was robbing him, even if she didn’t appear to be apart of a bandit gang, “Look, I don’t have anything worth stealing-“

“I saw you! You got food from the- the caravan.” Her voice waivered upon mentioning the raided caravan. Maybe she wasn’t as hardened as Armin had first suspected.

“Really it’s nothing, I swear.” He couldn’t give up his food, not if he wanted to survive long enough to make it to a town. It was only one can anyway.

The girl took a threatening step forward, “I said give it to me, or I’ll take it.”

Armin tensed and bent his knees slightly, preparing. “Please,” He tried pleading as he snuck his right hand to his belt, slipping his knife into his palm. His chances were bad, but he couldn’t give up.

“No, give it to me now!” She demanded, voice raised.  
Armin whipped his arm up, and just as he was about to fling his knife at the girl he found himself on the ground. Gasping for his lost breath, he struggled against the hands pinning him down. His attacker slammed his right hand against a rock until Armin’s grip on his knife was broken.

“What did I tell you?” A new, deeper voice scolded, “You’re worthless, you were just going to let him kill you! You can’t even kill a damn single person.”

Armin regained his bearings, and his eye caught with the girl, now crumpled against a tree like her legs gave out on her. All he could see was shame and horror within her. The man on top of him reared back and punched Armin straight across the face.

Armin struggled, head fuzzy from the punch. “Give me your bag!” The man demanded. Armin twisted his body until he could grapple the man off his body, but the man didn’t let go, and managed to fling Armin into a tree when he tried to stand up.

Armin leaned heavily on the tree and wiped the blood from his nose as he tried to catch his breath. The man snatched up Armin’s knife and held it confidently in his hand. Armin wasn’t going to win.

“H-hold on,” Armin said before the man could lunge, “I only have one can, I’ll starve-“

“So what? We don’t have any. It’s you or me, and I pick me. Hand it over.”

“Dad…” The girl murmured.

“Be quiet, would you?” He snapped, turning his head for a second to scowl at the girl.

That second was all Armin needed. He bolted, sprinting as fast as he could back the way he came.

“HEY!” The man shouted, stumbling into pursuit. 

Armin ducked under branches and stepped quickly around dangerous roots trying to trip him up. He did his best to change directions randomly while trying to not double back on the man chasing him. Despite his best efforts the man never seemed to get father behind, the crashing sounds behind Armin never disappearing. 

Armin stumbled upon the road and ran across it into the forest on the other side. He broke through the shrubs and the smell hit him. Without breaking stride Armin sprinted straight through the group, slamming through the zombies with his shoulder. He felt hands snagging on his hair and clothes, but he managed to twist free of their deadly, but surprised, grips.

Finally Armin seemed to be rid of his pursuer, but he didn’t allow himself to slow down for another minute. Huffing, Armin lifted his arms over his head in a trick that supposedly kept side-stiches away.

Armin was upset, but at himself, not at the people who tried to rob him. How could he blame them? Armin had been stupid and had been caught. Wasn’t that survival of the fittest? Then again he condemned and hated bandits. What was the difference between two people robbing one person and a group of people robbing larger groups? The amount of people affected, of course, but with the way Armin thought, technically supporting the fittest people was the most practical way to survive, in the long run. Yet it wasn’t the right way, at least not within Armin’s morals.

He couldn’t pick who deserved to live more based on fitness; truthfully he had no right to judge anyone’s life. Yet he did, didn’t he? He would and did pick himself over others constantly. In the same situation he couldn’t garuntee he wouldn’t resort to stealing himself, if he thought he could get away with it. 

If he didn’t he would die, but by surviving how many more people was he killing? He picked- or would have picked- Eren and Mikasa over multiple people. How many would he let die because of his preferences? He didn’t let himself think about it. He could try to justify himself by saying that they are fit and good upright people, but that was just an excuse. He liked them better personally, so in this post-apocalyptic world he would have done anything to make sure they survived- if they were still even alive for him to save.

Armin was no better than the bandits who chose themselves, or those hunters who chose each other. There was no longer good and bad in the world, there was only alive and dead.


	4. The Safetown Run-in

Credulous at best- your desire to believe in  
Angels in the hearts of men  
Pull your head out of your hippie haze and give a listen  
Shouldn't have to say it all again  
The universe is hostile, so impersonal  
Devour to survive... so it is, so it's always been  
-Vicarious by Tool  
(One month later)

The safetowns had at one time been quarantine zones in major cities, or cities organized enough to throw up a wall quick enough to keep zombies out. The quarantine was short lived in almost every city. Resources were used up within the cities much quicker than anyone could have predicted and the ability to maintain order with the panicked populace was almost impossible with the old methods from the pre-zombie days. Just throwing someone in jail wasn’t going to punish anyone, some even saw it as a blessing- a secure place to sleep and free food. Quickly gangs rose up, seizing control from the shambles of what was once the government.

The violent and harsh methods of the gangs actually brought people under control. If you weren’t going to obey their laws you were exiled or had to pay with food rations. It was an incredibly harsh system, and very corrupt, but it also kept people from running rampant. 

Soon when resources became even more scarce the gangs became more like small armies, taking over the close towns and slowly building connections with small trade routes opening up, protected by gang members as they traveled from town to town- taxed heftily, of course, but Armin admired the frugality of the leaders.

The safetown Armin found himself in was ruled by the so-called “Royal Guard.” Armin wasn’t fooled by their nonthreatening name; they were still an organization that was a gang, even if they weren’t named as such. He carefully navigated the street, eyes peeled and back tense. It wasn’t uncommon to be mugged or pick-pocketed by the residents in safetowns, but Armin hoped he looked intimidating enough with the scars over his body to keep them away. The separation between safetown folk and the people who went into the wilds was wide. The townies were a fairly knit together group, and not welcoming to outsiders. Armin was an outsider and alone, and had to tread carefully.

Armin passed through a populated square full of people trudging across the road, bartering and trading, and some just staring blankly at him as he passed. A member of the Royal Guard was sitting relaxed on a broken fountain in the middle of the square. The glazed eyes of the guard sharpened as he noticed Armin, clearly an outsider obvious by the way he walked and the state of his clothing, stained with blood.

The guard stood and shifted his hand over his hip, where his loose coat probably hid a gun. Armin approached without faltering and addressed the guard, “Where can I trade information to your superiors?” Armin was an Informant after all, and collecting data about the outside world was how he bartered for supplies, apart from scavenging. 

“Down there, brick building.” The guard stated tersely, waving his hand, clearly dismissing Armin from his presence. Unperturbed, Armin started off to where the guard directed him. He found the brick building easily, and stepped inside.

OOOO

It was dark by the time Armin was finished, and he felt the exhaustion seeping into his bones. That exchange had been more stressful and less productive than usual. The official Armin had talked to seemed to want nothing to do with what information Armin had. Armin only had a few days supply of food- if he rationed it- when he usually could manage double that. After all, it was important for towns to stay informed without risking their own people so they usually paid pretty well.

He rolled his shoulders and leaned against the brick building, taking a deep breath. He had been able to manipulate some information out of the official- apparently the large caravan he had heard of before was real, and operated much like a gang in a city, led by a man named Erwin Smith. All of it rumors, but Armin was getting more interested in this rumor every time he hear more about it. He also requested information about a Japanese woman, probably alone, but there was nothing. Mikasa was still missing and he hadn’t even heard whispers of her.

He was still determined not to give up though. Armin began to make his way out of the city. Sleeping under the stars felt safer to him than in this city. Even at night it was active- prostitutes called out and drunks stumbled by. Armin cut through an alley, hoping to avoid a group of people, but discovered it was a dead end. About to turn back around he was startled by a body slamming into his.

Armin pulled his knife as he spun to face the person who peddled back from him just as quickly. Armin took in the small build and blonde hair in the dark. Female. He seemed equally as surprised and wary as she did, and when a loud voice called out from the street the girl flinched and steped closer to Armin.

“I wasn’t here.” She pleaded before elegantly slipping into a trashcan, hidden from sight. 

Just as the trashcan closed two men turned the corner. What first struck Armin was their size. Armin was never incredibly tall compared to others, but those two tower over him easily. Their eyes flick over him and Armin shifted uncomfortably. How can he get out of this? His logic says if he just gives them the girl, they’d leave him alone. But for some reason he can’t bring himself to do that- what is he even thinking, they haven’t even said a word to him yet. He chided himself for being such a coward while spinning a plan in his head.

The stocky one speaks up first, “Have you seen a girl pass by here?”

“No, I don’t think so,” Armin answered, keeping his voice nonchalant. He was going to work this in his favor, he decided. To hell with his initial intimidated thoughts.

“What do you mean, you don’t ‘think so.’” The man responded, folding his impressively thick arms over one another.

“Exactly. My memory is a little fuzzy, you see.” A cliché line, but it’s worked for Armin before. Huffing with understanding, the lanky man dug into his backpack and tossed a can at Armin, who caught it gently. Still playing his part, Armin read the label, “Chicken soup, my favorite. I seem to think a woman might have continued right past this alleyway just a minute ago.”

The muscled one sneers, “Damn leech,” before leading his partner back out of the alleyway. Waiting a minute for the coast to be clear, Armin then tapped the trashcan with his finger.

“They’re gone.” He announced. The lid opened up so swiftly Armin stumbled back, and then watched as the woman easily lifted herself out. “What was that about?”

“Nothing.” She dismissed. Her eyes are blue like his, and her prominent nose compliments her heavy glare. When she tried to step around him, Armin moved to block her, making her immediately tense. She eyed him carefully, suspiciously. 

“Come on,” Armin tried again, raising his hands in a nonthreatening gesture, “I deserve to know, right?” He also hoped the information was important enough someone would pay him for it.

“Don’t stick your nose in other people’s business, Informant.” She spits.

Armin watched her carefully, she was dressed like a townie, but she was confident like someone who kills zombies constantly. An odd one, for sure. He raised the can of soup, “I’ll trade, food for information.”

“How about I take the soup, and you don’t get any information?” Before he can process what happed, he found himself on his back, breath knocked out of him and can gone. He rolled over with a grunt and looked up to see the back of the woman retreating. “Thanks again for the help,” she mocked as she sauntered away from him.

He can’t help a breathy chuckle to escape his lips. What a rude woman.

Next chapter: The Two Together


	5. The Two Together

“If you ain’t scared… you ain’t human.”  
James Dashner, The Maze Runner

The night had been bitterly cold, making Armin realize that winter was going to be on it’s way. To say the least he knew he wasn’t prepared to survive snow. He made the decision to start making his travels focus south with hopes to outrun the worst of the winter.

As he trekked along a dilapidated highway he couldn’t keep his mind off the woman he had met yesterday. It wasn’t just that she was beautiful, there was something suspicious about her. What would make someone as physically capable as her live confined in a town? And who were those men after her? They didn’t seem to just be random thugs…

He rubbed his temples. He didn’t have any information to use, so there was no use lingering on it anymore. Armin shifted his thoughts to more practical uses, scanning his surroundings and keeping his bearings.

He stopped for a break in what had been a gas station. He checked the aisles for any forgotten food but like he expected it was empty. He allowed himself a swig of water as he sat on the counter.

A low moan caught his attention. Suddenly the crunching of steps echoed from the back of the store, through the doorway to the women’s bathroom. Armin pulled out his knife and slid to the floor, crouching. A gurgle sounded from the same direction. Armin was sure it was a zombie now. He began to back away, towards the doors leading outside. Better to avoid a fight than to go looking for trouble.

A screech went up from behind him and he whipped around, coming face to face with a torn up zombie with deep claw marks mutilating it’s head. Before Armin could step away the zombie grabbed his shirt and jerked his open mouth at Armin’s fragile skin.

Armin slammed the handle of his knife into the zombie’s nose as he struggled to break free of it’s grip, but it barely flinched. Armin met it’s eyes and swore for a moment that the zombie was grinning sadistically at him. The pause was broken as the zombie from the bathroom barreled into the room growling and drooling. If Armin had any hope of surviving it evaporates, but he fights still, because what else can he do? Armin twisted the smiling zombie’s arm, snapping and popping until the rotting flesh pulled away and released his shirt. The arm was now only hanging uselessly at the zombie’s side but it still snapped forward, the other arm clawing at Armin’s chest.

Armin frantically rammed the blade of his knife into the zombie’s chest, but the zombie’s body turned, wrenching the handle out of Armin’s grip. He shoved it’s face away with the palm of his hand, just in time to feel the second zombie slamming into his back. Armin twisted, throwing his elbow into the second zombie’s stomach then spinning out of the middle of the two. 

He scrambled away, hands shaking with adrenaline and fear. He didn’t get very far because one of the zombies latched onto his ankle. Armin lost his balance and crashed into the glass covered ground. Getting and idea from all the little shards in his arms, Armin reaches for a large and pointed piece of glass and grips it tightly in his hand. Blood pours from his palm, but he pays it no mind. He kicks out, but the zombie’s grip holds. As he kicks, the smiling zombie stands and leaps directly on his chest, knocking the breath from his lungs, but also impaling itself on the glass Armin angled into it’s neck. The zombie goes limp and Armin shoves it off of himself, still trying to break the second zombie’s grip. Armin sits up and clasps his hands together, slamming them on it’s head with all his strength. The zombie’s head smacks into the floor, crushing in it’s nose and breaking it’s chin, but it still holds fast.

Armin flinches when a loud bang sounds behind him, and another figure stumbles towards him. Armin chokes- he’s going to die, he can’t face this many, and he is so exhausted. Why couldn’t he be stronger? He shudders and weakly tugs one last time at his captured leg.

But he doesn’t die. The figure falls on the zombie, and Armin sees the flash of a blade. The grip on his leg falls away and Armin backs up, heart still pounding, hands still shaking. The zombie dies as the blade severs the spinal cord in the back of it’s neck. The gory blade rises and is wiped off. Armin drags his eyes away from it and looks up to find a person wielding it. 

Armin sighs in relief and falls back, hysterical laughter bubbling up his throat. “Thanks,” He manages between huffs that alternate between laughs, sobs, and gasps.

A gentle human hand presses on his forehead, “Hey, hold on, steady. You gotta breathe-“ 

“Get back!” Another figure stumbles into the gas station, but Armin is too relieved to care. He was saved. He is alive.

“Sh, Jean, he’s a human.” Armin’s savior shifts his body in front of Armin.

“Yeah, that’s the problem.” Comes the sharp reply, “Take his stuff and let’s go. I don’t want to stick around here if he has friends that are going to show up.”

“No-“ Armin’s voice cracks and he clears his voice before beginning again, “I don’t have anybody to come looking for me.”

Armin mentally smacks himself. He can’t just give away his vulnerability like that! Sitting up, Armin shakes his head. He has to pull himself together, and fast. 

“Well good, let’s take his stuff-“

“Jean, come on, he’s had enough trouble today,”

The man, Jean, huffs and crosses his arms. “Yeah, and if we don’t get something to eat soon so are we, Marco.”

Armin is silent. It seems like his savior, Marco, doesn’t want to rob him while Jean does. Armin likes Marco, but if he was in their shoes, he was sure which role he would be playing. Eren was always the justice type, not him.

“I only have a can, nothing worth stealing,” Armin pleads his case. 

Jean scoffs, “Yeah right, we’re suppose to believe you are traveling alone and only have one can of food. Do you think we’re idiots? Marco, just leave him and let’s go.”

“H-hold on,” Armin stutters, “I really am alone. If you wouldn’t mind if I just walked with you, if you’re heading south that is, I mean, I wont ask for food or anything, I just…” Armin prays they will let him tag along, he doesn’t know if could handle another attack alone.

Marco sends Jean a serious look. Jean raises his hands, “Hell no, don’t you even think about it. I am not-“ Marco changes his face into some sort of pleading puppy-dog look, “Don’t you dare-“

“Don’t be the bad guy, Jean.”

“Fuck you,” Jean stomps off, slamming his way through the doors and leaving Armin and Marco alone.

“Well, I think that means you can come.” Marco smiles kindly at him and Armin heaves a relieved sigh.

Next: The Half is Gone


	6. The Half is Gone

Chapter 6: The Half is Gone  
“You'll stay with me?'  
“Until the very end,” said James.  
J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows  
How long had Armin been separated from Eren and Mikasa? Four, five weeks? Yet it seemed like it had been a lifetime ago since he had traveled with companions. It was tense, of course, with the newly formed trio not really having a lot of trust for each other in general. Still, Armin was still thankful to have their eyes peeled for zombies. He had had too many surprises for his liking these past few years.

He eyed the other two men as nonchalantly as he could, looking for clues that might reveal something about them. The man leading the way through the brush, Jean if he remembered correctly, had strong shoulders and eyebrows that were constantly being pulled down into a sharp scowl. He kept his knife out at all times, ready to pounce on a threat at any moment. His clothes were just as torn and dirty as anyone’s, the only thing that caught Armin’s eye was a bandage secured around the man’s middle, visible through the tears in the shirt. The man walking on Jean’s heels was just as cautious and just as dirty, except it seemed as if he was more approachable and more relaxed.

Marco suddenly broke the silence, “I don’t think I caught your name earlier.”

“Armin.” He answered with a slight smile, trying to project friendliness to his newfound companions. 

“Nice to meet you Armin. What brings you out here, alone?”

Technically Armin considered this prying, but his answer left his mouth before he could think better of it, “I never made a habit of traveling alone until recently, I got separated from my friends and I’m still looking for them.”

“Oh, yes? If you don’t mind describing them, I can let you know if it rings a bell.” Marco offered.

“One is a woman of Japanese decent, shoulder length hair, about this tall,” Armin held a hand above his own head, aware of his own shortness in comparison, “Uses swords, and would most likely be alone as well. She is really the only one who I’m looking for.” Pain twisted in his chest at the admission. He still had trouble admitting that Eren was probably dead. No one lived after a bite.

To his credit, Marco took a moment to at least consider the description before shaking his head. “No, sorry. Nobody comes to mind.”

“That’s alright, I wasn’t expecting you to know her.” 

“Are you really looking for one single person? Do you have any leads at all?” Jean asked over his shoulder, scowl disrupted by his quirking eyebrow.

Armin shrugged, “None, not really. We got separated in an attack out in the wild.” He explained, trying to play off the impossibility of the situation. 

“Hah,” Jean scoffed, “Good luck, you’ll need it.”

“Jean…” Marco tried to whisper in warning, but Armin overheard it easily, yet did his best to pay the comment no mind. If he could deal with Eren’s crass nature, he could handle Jean’s dismissal. 

Wanting to turn around the conversation, Armin spoke up, “What about you? Why are the two of you wandering around?”

The pair jolted, surprised, and then they shared a heavy glance. “City life just isn’t for us.” Marco answered cryptically. Armin could tell they wouldn’t share something critical, but didn’t press the issue. Let them keep their secrets.

OOOO

They traveled slowly, following the street and having to fight off and dodge a few more straggling zombies. Armin found that Jean was quick to bark orders while fighting, and Armin also found himself quick to comply. If Jean said to step back it was for a good reason, and if he said go Armin got going, saving his neck a few times.

The time surviving together during the day slowly relaxed Armin to being in the company of the two men. They noticed the setting sun and Marco suggested making camp. Armin gathered kindling for a fire as Jean hauled larger branches and Marco cleared a space for a fire behind a blank concrete building. Personally Armin wouldn’t even have a fire, it was too easily tracked, but Marco seemed insistent, which meant Jean voted for a fire as well.

Armin dropped his armful of twigs a step away from the circle made of bricks that Marco had fashioned to keep the flames from straying. “Thanks,” Marco greeted before slipping flint out of his pant’s pocket. The spark sprung into a fire fluidly and Jean returned quietly, tossing branches into the flame carefully. Armin sat with his legs crossed finally allowing himself to feel exhausted. He watched as Jean and Marco adopted similar positions as his own, appearing just as exhausted as he felt.

No one made a move to take out food. Armin wasn’t going to show what he had, that was his one advantage over the pair, the one thing he could keep from them to make him feel like he had some sort of upper hand over them.

The awkward silence was broken by Marco, “So, Armin, how do you know this girl that you’re looking for? Girlfriend? Wife?”

Armin kept his eyes on the crackling fire as he shook his head, “No, she’s a childhood friend. I’ve known her since way before Zombies.”

“That’s incredible. The chances of that the two of you survived and stuck together for so long is so low. I’m always hearing of people who lost so many friends and family…” Marco swallowed, “I’m sorry. This must be a hard thing to talk about.”

“It’s the truth though. People die.” Jean cut in.

“I don’t think she’s dead.” Armin stated firmly, “If anyone could survive it would be her. Mikasa was always a prodigy fencer and soccer player before the zombies, but her athletic talents seemed to have been amplified since our lives have been at stake.”

“Sure,” Jean said, obviously dismissing Armin’s words as an exaggeration, “Back before the Event I was on the football team, but I was what, fourteen? That doesn’t mean I can maul down zombies any better than Marco here who read books for fun. Everyone is just lucky to survive, there is no skill about it.”

“You’re skilled, Jean, and you’ve saved me quite a few times.” Marco turned to Armin, “He’s smart too, good at making quick decisions.”

Armin noted that Jean pinked a little upon hearing Marco’s praise. He turned his face away with a huff and a scowl. “Well, whatever, Marco keeps my head on straight. The point is, surviving is mostly luck and having somebody to watch your back. I’m really sorry, you know, that you got separated from your group.” Jean offered in a show of sympathy.

Marco then steered them towards lighter conversation, discussing survival tips and tracking techniques depending on the season. Armin found himself enjoying the company of the two men immensely, whether or not if it was because he was starved for friendly contact or that he genuinely liked the pair. It finally became late enough that Armin could barely keep his eyes open, and he belatedly realized that the conversation had halted.

“I’ll take first watch. You two are almost asleep anyway.” 

Armin grunted his agreement, glad Jean seemed much more awake and aware that Armin could hope to be. He bunched up his leather jacket and used it as a pillow as he laid on his side, sleep taking him almost as soon as he was horizontal. 

OOOO

The next few days were full of the usual, avoiding death, scavenging, and endless traveling. Armin was increasingly grateful to Marco and Jean, he hadn’t realized how downtrodden and aimless he had become while traveling alone. Jean was still rough around the edges, but Marco made for an easy companion. Still, having people to talk to made him miss Mikasa and Eren more acutely, despite how good the human interaction was for his mood overall. 

“…Armin?”

Armin snapped his head up to find Marco watching him curiously. “Sorry, what did you say?”

“It’s just it looks like an abandoned town farther down the road and we were making sure we were all on board to check it out.”

Armin blushed, embarrassed to be lost so far in his mind that he missed out on their entire discussion. “Ah, yeah. Whatever you guys want to do.”

Jean rolled his eyes at Armin but held his tongue. “Alright then, no need to wait around. Stay close enough that we can shout to each other just in case.”

They walked together as a unit until they reached the first buildings, then they split up, Armin going to the left side of the road, Marco the right, and Jean keeping and eye on the street. 

The building Armin was searching appeared to be some sort of pet store with dog toys and bird cages spilled onto the floor. If he could find some leashes he could use them as rope, and dog food… if worst came to worst it would be good to have around. He managed to scrounge up two leashes and five unopened cans of dog and cat food. He maneuvered his way back outside and met up with Jean who was hovering nearby. 

“Find anything?”

“Two leashes and some canned pet food.”

Jean grimaced but nodded. “That’ll do.” Marco is checking out the cars in the parking lot in the next block. Let me put this in your bag and we can go help him out.”

Armin let Jean unzip his backpack and place the items in the large pouch, then they both walked to the parking lot Marco was poking around in. 

“Find anything interesting?” Jean asked as Marco came into sight.

“Not yet, but this was a hardware store, I believe. That’s promising. Maybe we can find nails to trade or something.”

Armin noticed something freshly spray-painted on the brick of the building. “What symbol is that?” he asked, gesturing towards it as he started to walk towards Marco.

“I don’t know…” Marco walked ahead of him to get a better look. “I think it’s suppose to be wings-“

Armin found himself with his face pressed into the gravely pavement, trying to catch his breath. White hot pain shot up his leg and side, his head pounded, and all he could hear was and overwhelming ringing. He sputtered as he tried to make sense of what happened. He rolled from his side to his stomach, blinking his eyes to focus on what was around him. 

A cloud of dust blocked most of the town from what he could see and make sense of, but what he did see was not good. Blood was splattered across the ground, and as his eyes followed the trail to the center his heart sank. A mangled corpse was in a heap, and before he could react Jean had run past him and clutched at the dead body. Armin was still disoriented, but he could still see it- he didn’t think he could ever forget it. Half of Marco’s usually animated face was pale and lifeless while the other half of his face just wasn’t there anymore. Shredded flesh and blood was all that was left.

The sight made Armin turn away in an attempt to settle his stomach. He still retched. 

“Marco, Marco-“ whispers through tears was the first sound that Armin could distinguish. 

Armin wanted to throw up again. The next sound Armin hears makes him sicker. Feet slapping the pavement, getting closer. He goes to stand, but collapses immediately due to the pain in his leg. He finds it burnt and torn, in no condition to make a run for it. 

“Jean, you have to go.” Armin croaked, he cleared his throat desperately and tried to shout to his friend again, “Jean leave now, zombies are coming, get out of here!” He gets no response. “Jean! Jean go!”

Finally Jean reacts, lifting his head to meet Armin’s eyes through his tears, “I could never leave him behind.”


End file.
